


The Kids Aren't Sick

by Letsnottalkaboutitaye



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Secret Santa, a whole year hiatus and Gilbert is still my fav
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letsnottalkaboutitaye/pseuds/Letsnottalkaboutitaye
Summary: Low tides and overcast skies are the perfect mix for an afternoon cigarette. When Lovino steps away to have a quick smoke, he remedies the quiet with reflective imagination. Maybe he's cliche or maybe he's just another angsty teen. Whatever he is, at least he's not alone.Secret-Santa gift for @LeavesAreSexyHappy Holidays, everyone.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Kids Aren't Sick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeavesAreSexy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeavesAreSexy/gifts).



_The kids aren’t sick_

_they’re dancers_

_The kids aren’t sick_

_they’re amassing an abandoned ship—_

_captain-less they sail._

* * *

_Here stands a wall you can’t pass. A Novel Idea. “It’s forbidden to pass.”_

That shit is so 2012.

With ease Lovino stepped over the short rail, ignoring the sign warning him of loose rocks. He took a seat on the edge allowing his feet to dangle. The tide was low and the season had been dry for November. Only the bottom of his sneakers touched, the polarized surface of the water sticking like jelly.

In his head he sat on an unclimbable wall. With a plunge he would become a hero. A kid that escaped some dystopian society. A society that feasted on imagination and soul, leaving hollowed shells to raise the next set of victims.

He smiled. Not because anything was particularly funny, but because his narrative was dumb and he really needed to work on omitting clichés from his day-thinking. The first drag of his cigarette tasted like cheap red wine; the rest tasted like an illness that sunk straight to his stomach—a warm air that dropped, mixing with his chemistry to create a hurricane of distaste. At least the smell was nice.

“Grab my hand, damn it!” he would scream. Belly on the ground, he would stretch desperately to grab the hand of the next kid. His brother would help, hoisting the younger ones on his shoulders—or maybe he would be calming the scared ones down. Alfred was taller than him, and stronger, so maybe he would be the one to lift the kids. Maybe they would bring a rope and turn the rusted green rail into a pulley system. The clouds would hide the moon’s light.

A large bird with sharp bones instead of feathers would fly overhead. It would be as large as a car. A demon of the sky.

“Lovino, get down!” Gilbert would yell from below. His scratched voice would be as abrasive as the demon’s caw. He would draw back his homemade slingshot. The snap would reverberate from the wall’s harsh angle, the sound of a heavy branch finally succumbing to the rain. The demon would stumble back, blood spraying a tarnish over the perfect white of its chattering bones.

Lovino would finish pulling the kid up, rolling to his back and pulling out his own weapon. The smoke from his gun would create a great fog, further disorienting the beast.

“Send me up!” Ludwig would demand. With no help from Lovino he would appear on the wall. His broad sword would find action before Lovino’s attack was even over.

“Dogs!” From the trees below, a pack of demon dogs would appear. Their fur would bristle like pine, their teeth would drip with the thick remains of their last meal; never is a hellhound’s hunger satisfied.

Feliciano would congregate the children against the wall. His stance between the kids and the hellhounds would be defiant as he raised his shield.

 _Surrounded_.

Lovino considered the water. He could plunge on his own. Get out. Live.

He would stand and join Ludwig. The younger children would wail; those injured would bellow, pushing forward in the fight. All or nothing. All or nothing! Together Ludwig and Lovino would push the demon bird into the water. It would sink, its blood foaming against the wall.

“Feliciano! Send the next one up!” Feliciano would tie the rope around the next kid’s waist and Lovino and Ludwig would work to pull them up.

Elizabeth, Gilbert, Alfred, and a handful of other kids would hold off the dogs. “Over here, you mangy mutt!” Elizabeth would scream, aiming her poisoned arrow and releasing the draw. The crack of the hellhound’s skull would ring louder than a million church bells. Elizabeth’s hair would fall from the pencil knot, piece by piece, as kids were hoisted up, one by one, and Alfred’s pistol made yet another perfectly aimed shot; he never missed.

Slowly, they would all group together on the wall. Once the last kid was up, Feliciano would join the fight against the dogs. “Go!” he would scream. “Go! Gogogogo _go_!” He would brace himself on his knees, grounding the rim of his shield. The fighters would obey, running towards the wall. Gilbert would offer a hasty nudge and a Cheshire grin.

“Blow ‘em away, Scats.”

Feliciano wouldn’t react. When everyone was clear, the dogs dangerously close, Feliciano would shout louder than any plane engine. A great forcefield would erupt from the face of his shield, reaching higher than the wall, cutting through the overcast with a brilliant blue energy. It would shoot forward, disintegrating everything in its path molecule by molecule. The trees would be destroyed, cutting a clear path to the lights of the city.

Feliciano would be the last to reach the wall, grabbing at the crowd of hands offered to him. As he would make it to his feet, a great number of people would wander towards the base of the wall. All their features would be blank: passionless, empty, the living dead.

“Come back down.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“You’ll never be any different.”

“You’re just being dramatic.”

“You’re okay.”

“You can be anything you want.”

“I do everything for you.”

“Don’t ask me for anything.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Calm down.”

Elizabeth would break through the chorus. “A ship!” In the mist, a great film separating there from here, an abandoned ship would break through the grey Washington water. The vessel would be decrepit but worthy. Gilbert and Ludwig would rope it in. While everyone boarded, a kid would find their way to the city side. They would cry. Lovino would take their hand, speaking just loud enough for the child to hear. The wind would blow, coercing them towards the ship.

“I want to go back. I want to go home! Mom!”

“Don’t look back, kid. That’s the past. We’re the future. We have to stick together.”

Elizabeth would pick up the child, leaving Lovino alone to stare at the familiar lights, the familiar faces, the scar in the trees. Alfred would grab his shoulder. “C’mon, dude.” Together they would sail away from that place, not knowing what was beyond the wall but knowing that they would be able to defeat whatever they faced because they were together.

“Those things’ll kill ya,” Alfred yelled from behind him, breaking Lovino from his trance. Lovino tipped his head back, bracing the sight of his friends. Feliciano hugged his coat around himself, chattering aimlessly at Ludwig while Gilbert stared up at the sky, walking backwards as he examined the clouds.

“Oh, don’t go acting like the model of health, fat-ass,” Elizabeth said, stepping over the rusted green rail as she pulled out her own pack of cigarettes. Gilbert jumped with both feet, the sweet cloud from his Juul dramatizing his entrance.

“It’s totally going to rain and these shoes are new.” He didn’t seem to be too worried.

Soon, they all sat on the cliff’s edge, feet disturbing the water and kicking the rocks. The sharp air turned their fingers stiff and noses red, but none of them made a move to leave.

Lovino smiled. Not because anything was particularly funny, but because he knew that every day the future got a little bit brighter. Together they would make it work.

Dystopians only survive if those living in them grow complacent. And that shit is so 2012.

## End

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written as a present for my dear boy LeavesAreSexy as part of a 2019 Secret Santa Discord thing. Merry Christmas, kid. I hope that this story is one you can read multiple times, a new message or wave of inspiration discovered with each one. We're the future -- of this art and of the world -- so we gotta stick together <3


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